Post by MINAMI JUN on Jun 14, 2010 18:41:51 GMT -5
i run my fingers cross windows to trace all the outlines that make up your face.
haven't found all that i'm looking for
When she would have nightmares about it, she would leave her own room to crawl into bed with Kage. The warmth between them and the dogs was enough to reel her back into happier places, to make the dreams go away for a little while. And when the sun would rise, she’d unwillingly find her way back to her own bed—to the place where she didn’t feel so safe. When she shut her eyes, when she willed herself to fall beneath consciousness, it’d happen again. He would be there, his breath would touch her ear, and her whole body would begin to break down in absolute fear. A hand would touch her neck, she’d wake up.
She hated it, hated dwelling on it when it came back to haunt her. Six years and she couldn’t get over it. But perhaps she was being a tad too hard on herself, as it was all occurring once more. When she turned around these days, again she saw a familiar face. Every time. Everyday. Watching her. Following her. Moving closer and closer.
That face would appear outside the windows of the elementary school, in the cars parked in the lots while class went on and on. And when it was time to let them back to their parents, he came in last despite being the first person to be there. He would collect his child, tell her his thanks and smile at her. Smile like nothing was going on. And that little girl would pat his face, would wave to her with that big, childish grin on her face. That kid knew nothing, didn’t know that those long hours that her father spent outside of the house was to look at her teacher. To stare at something he couldn’t have.
When she would leave the school for the day, close the curtains and lock the door, escaping from the confines of a workplace, she’d see him. Again his car was parked, but not by her. On the other end of the teacher-filled lot he would sit in her car and watch her make her way, define every movement with his eyes. When she’d slip into her own vehicle, turn it on and smoothly move her way back to where ever she was to go next, it’d always be a couple ten or so minutes until she saw him appear in the mirrors. Following, following. Watching. Closer.
In the evening, she would pull back the screen door that led out to the balcony for some cool air and a cup of tea. Holding her cup over the edge and breathing in the night air, her eyes would scan across the horizon at the lights of all the buildings. Calm would settle until she glanced below and he was standing across the street, and his head was tilted upwards. Up. At her windows, at her balcony, at her. Inside. Doors locked. Curtains drawn. She went into Kage’s room and slept in his bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m afraid.”
Can’t sleep. She just stares at his face and wonders if this is ever going to end. Wonders if the only way to get that man away is to leave this place where she feels so comfortable. Reaching out but drawing away, she curiously watches the twitches of his face as he sleeps and ponders the possibilities. He has enough trouble in his life; she can handle this on her own. It’s fine. She can do this. It’s okay. Everything is okay.
Hyperventilation.
“I can handle this.”
So, she left to handle it. Turned around and disappeared through the doorway, back to that apartment to sit and think about what she had done. She wouldn’t be living her anymore. The faces that she had adored, the dogs and the guy, the girl. She adored her family away from her family, but he was right. She was bringing a stalker to their door, she was being a burden. Handle it on her own, she could it. No one would have to worry about it; no one would be demanding that she get it ‘taken care of’. No. She could do this all on her own—it was okay, it was okay, it was okay.
Out the door. Close. Lock. No note, no nothing. Everything was left inside, every one of her belongings. She wouldn’t return, but she didn’t need them. The only thing she took were the clothes she put on when inside. Everything stayed where it was, where it would be until he decided to smash it or burn it or sell it for some extra cash. She could already imagine Dres and Shep gnawing on her favorite pair of slippers, their master egging them on with a look of revenge in his eye. She couldn’t help but laugh at the image that came into her head; giggle at something that could very possibly be happening the moment that he came home and saw that she wasn’t there. She laughed herself sick, walking down those long streets.
When the last sprits of the sun had gone to face another section of the world, she was nearly catatonic. The laughter had died, the feeling of comfort vanishing with the disappearance of familiarity. The stubbornness remained, however, and she moved forward despite the growing sense that she should move back, forget everything and turn around to apologize. Be slapped, be yelled at, be hated, but go back. Return.
No.
Another puddle splashed and covered her exposed toes as she uneasily continued on. Summer rain came and went, covering the ground with its remains. Humidity from the passing storms had covered her in sheen of sweat, something which sparkled vaguely in the orange-yellow lights of the overhead lamps. Neither hand came up to wipe it off her face, one limply hanging beside her. It moved in time with her right foot, both the arm and the leg of that side swinging in a tic-tock fashion. The other hand was coiled up in the large t-shirt she had taken, fingers digging so deep that it had ripped the fabric. Now her manicured tips were pushed into the heel of her hand, stabbing at herself.
There was blood forming from those half crescents.
“I’m okay.” Her stubbornness went forth. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.” Self comfort, she threw the words out to ease her dazed mind. “I’m fine. I can handle this. I’m fine. I can handle it all on my own.” Strained, pressing, bending to the point of breaking. Her voice wanted to rush out and consume everything in a dreadful scream. She was beginning to realize how very lost she had become.
All of her fears were coming true. The man that was always in her peripherals was number one. Now her lack of recognition to any surroundings, it was number two. When she would wake up tomorrow she would have nothing that she loved. Number three.
The lights beyond the last she had passed were all broken. Not even a twitch of activity. On the other end of the street, they were alive. A cross section had appeared before her, and either she could turn right, turn left or continue forward (or go back—never). The lights forward sparkled with their usually florescent bulbs. The left was broken, the right was flickering. Stilled, silent. Confusion. A random process of choosing would be acceptable, it would be wonderful. But there was just one thing in her way.
The man she was running away from had caught up.
If he had just been in the crowd, just been a normal male who walked along the streets, her eyes never would’ve touched his face and thought of him as someone. Just another body, jut another brain—continue on. Never would recognize him again. “Leave me alone…” But she had seen him so many times these past days, weeks, months (it’s been months). That face was the clearest one next to her own, the one that she could pick out from any mass, any gathering. Those brown eyes—staring. That face, directed on her. Those hands shoved in his pockets. No mistaking. He had found her. “…leave me alone…” Following, following, closer closer closerclosercloser.
PleaseletmecomebackohgodI’msosorry. Don’ttouchmeohgoddon’ttouchme. Ican’tdoitIcan’thandlethisletmecomebackohgodletmecomeback.
Flip, flop. It was off her foot, one of them only. Her sudden, jerking movements had cleanly removed it from her foot. Abandoning that which was not needed, she rushed forward. The uneven steps she took almost obliterated any other sound, her panting an addition to this noise numbing. But even so, she could hear it. Hear his panting like he was on her heels, like she was the rabbit and he was the fox making for the pounce. That unbearable noise of approach, of attack, of something close to getting what it wants.
Don’tkillmeohgoddon’tkillme. I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.
A hand on her swinging arm, fingers pressed into self-inflicted wounds. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” Pulled in close for a second, the pain of foreign digits in her scraps causing her to scream. Body on body contact, then she pushed. Shoved. He came again, again, again. Tried again. She was blinded in the rush of colors and limbs and the night sky blending and mixing and oh. Again, pushed again. Kept him away, though his clawed, desperate fingers had left marks across her face. Again. Breath was missing as a lump constricted everything, closing down the mind to thought. Feral, instinctual—she finally ran.
Farther. Farther. Farther. Onward. Forward. Away. Keep him away.
Panic finally caught up with her as she met the ground upon her last turn, catching herself barely with her forearms and knees. The pavement ripped away the top layer, stinging aches rattling every part that hit the ground. Pain met her with full force, everything collapsing on top of her. The crescent-shaped nail marks stung, her exposed skin throbbed, her breath was ragged. Her heart soared, raced, nearly broke free of the bone cage.
Finally, she cried.
